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while this place shields light and dark alike,

this giant lunar swing,

we’re headed back and forth,

until one of us puke,

then the ride is over and we return the that profound candy shack for 5 cent wafers,

circus tents and jazz melodies fill the air while your caught up in the grass,

alone with the wild by your side,

alone with a child-like fiendish stride,

those wafers taste better when no one paid for them,

and even better when the strangers puke them up again,

we hadn’t time to shift our seats,

so a loop wasn’t appropriate,

but we did it anyway,

and held on for dear life,

held on for dear death,

face to face with the aborted ground whos smile consumed the world,

and this place,

this blanket of earth and chain,

bought our tickets for us,

waited in line,

for the 10% discount,

somebody’s got a knife in the crowd,

stabbing at strangers,

side by side with your candy and prices so low,

you cant afford not to buy,

wheels of assorted floresent bulbs and fields of shattaring post-nuclear waste,

explosions over the lake,

because it’s diverting our attention,

from the strangers pickpocketing our satchels,

and robbing us of our children’s minds,

but they DID pay for our tickets,

and this ride only cost a nickel more,

a penny more than the horse at depo,

and a penny less than the saturday news,

just in case of fire,

break the switch open with blunt object,

your bare hands,

your nutritious bite-ized snack,

but not the one you got here,

it’s too valuable,

once you’ve broken the glass,

remove the can,

and twist the lid in a downward motion,

as if to smash into your tiny fists,

the answers are inside,

everything you need to survive and live,

to live against these trangers tealing ons,

these admen causing ayhem on onday night,

all inside,

and its slogan for acceptance,

“you’ll never think again”

advertising in the canvas sky,

the clouds are it’s billboards,

ads of vapor and stars,

the lunar swing of intended relief,

and for intensive care,

those free-tickets still hang from your wall,

a gift,

a decoration,

and finally,

a “proof-of-purchase”,

you’ve got this figured out,

keep watching those explosions,

keep buying those emergencies,

it’s all part of this experience,

and that wafer you got for 3 cents,

it was cheap,

so who cares if you puke it up?!?!?

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shugo

Joined July 2008

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

you get it.

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